f course, outlive my father, and no doubt will
outlive me, and then for his life he will have the place, but some
arrangement could be made so that you should continue here."

"I'm afraid it cannot be so," said Walter. Many thoughts were passing
through his mind. Why had he not known that these good things were so
near to him before he had allowed Mary Lowther to go off from him?
And, had it chanced that he had visited Dunripple before he had gone
to Loring, how might it have been between him and this other girl?
Edith Brownlow was not beautiful, not grand in her beauty as was
Mary Lowther; but she was pretty, soft, lady-like, with a sweet dash
of quiet pleasant humour,--a girl who certainly need not be left
begging about the world for a husband. And this life at Dunripple was
pleasant enough. Though the two elder Marrables were old and infirm,
Walter was allowed to do just as he pleased in the house. He was
encouraged to hunt. There was shooting for him if he wished it. Even
the servants about the place, the gamekeeper, the groom, and the old
butler, seemed to have recognised him as the heir. There would have
been so comfortable an escape from the dilemma into which his father
had brought him,--had he not made his visit to Loring.

"Why not?" demanded Gregory Marrable.

"A man cannot become attached to a girl by order, and what right have
I to suppose that she would accept me?"

"Of course she would accept you. Why not? Everybody around her would
be in your favour. And as to not falling in love with her, I declare
I do not know a sweeter human being in the world than Edith
Brownlow."

Before the hunting season was over Captain Marrable had abandoned
his intention of going to India, and had made arrangements for
serving for awhile with his regiment in England. This he did after a
discussion of some length with his uncle, Sir Gregory. During that
discussion nothing was said about Edith Brownlow, and of course, not
a word was said about Mary Lowther. Captain Marrable did not even
know whether his uncle or his cousin was aware that that engagement
had ever existed. Between him and his uncle there had never been an
allusion to his marriage, but the old man had spoken of his nearness
to the property, and had expressed his regret that the last heir,
the only heir likely to perpetuate the name and title, should take
himself to India in the pride of his life. He made no offer as to
money, but he told his nephew that there